#1 · May 27, 2016 18:10 UTC
Cancer strikes again.
His name was Rick, but I have called him Tuna for nearly 40 years. He said the nickname came from being on the swim team in HS where he was originally from. We were in "basement" bands together at various times - the first one, I think we were 16, was Tommy Twister and the Tornadoes. That shit makes me laugh. We played Elvis and Beatles.
Tuna is the one that bought the 6505 mh I got to jam through. He was hoping to do some recording. Sadly my time didn't match up to his good days and we never got a single note down, but I will always remember his Martin ringing.
Went one day at a time in 1993. He was active in the community, spoke around the country and helped hundreds of people. Probably saved more than a few lives along the way.
Our friendship was the kind that transcends time and distance. He moved around a little and sometimes years went by between visits, but the second we sat down that time was gone and it felt like the first perfect day of spring, like home. Closer than a brother in some ways. He had some piercing blue eyes that just radiated the unconditional love he gave his friends. When I visited him on Monday that blue fire was still there. Three days later, gone forever.
I hope you all have or will have a friend like Tuna at some point in your lives. Every time I pick up a guitar I think of him. Always will...
Fuck. Cancer sucks.
His name was Rick, but I have called him Tuna for nearly 40 years. He said the nickname came from being on the swim team in HS where he was originally from. We were in "basement" bands together at various times - the first one, I think we were 16, was Tommy Twister and the Tornadoes. That shit makes me laugh. We played Elvis and Beatles.
Tuna is the one that bought the 6505 mh I got to jam through. He was hoping to do some recording. Sadly my time didn't match up to his good days and we never got a single note down, but I will always remember his Martin ringing.
Went one day at a time in 1993. He was active in the community, spoke around the country and helped hundreds of people. Probably saved more than a few lives along the way.
Our friendship was the kind that transcends time and distance. He moved around a little and sometimes years went by between visits, but the second we sat down that time was gone and it felt like the first perfect day of spring, like home. Closer than a brother in some ways. He had some piercing blue eyes that just radiated the unconditional love he gave his friends. When I visited him on Monday that blue fire was still there. Three days later, gone forever.
I hope you all have or will have a friend like Tuna at some point in your lives. Every time I pick up a guitar I think of him. Always will...
Fuck. Cancer sucks.